


Now or Never

by isarose



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isarose/pseuds/isarose
Summary: In which Zack and Cloud make it to Midgar.  (What if? one-shot.)





	

They land in the dust, feet scrambling over dry dirt as Zack drags Cloud behind cover. The ex-SOLDIER peers over the ridge of a bolder, scanning the distant cliffs for the sniper, but he must have scattered as soon as he missed his shot.

They're so close. Zack can smell the Midgar smog already, and it reeks of home. Just a few klicks away, another hour in the back of that old man's truck, and they would have made it. It's never that easy, though.

Billowing clouds in the distance foreshadow a storm, but for now, the sun is glaring. Between that and the echoing canyons in the badlands, the SOLDIER can't pin-point the blade slap of the Army's whirling helicopters.

Zack turns back and crouches down beside Cloud. A heavy sigh escapes him as he looks at his lifeless face and thousand-yard stare. The sun has warmed Cloud's fair skin some, breathing rosy life into his Mako-poisoned pallor. Zack can almost imagine he's just sleeping, just a jostle away from waking. 

“Looks like we're caught between a rock and a hard place,” he gives Cloud a grin that almost makes it to his eyes, knocking his knuckles against the rock next to the blond's head, “Get it?” A far-off memory of Cloud's laughter – that wonderful sound that made the mountain air all the lighter when they first met – fills in the silence.

A breeze rustles by, stirring their hair and brushing their skin. Zack turns back to the sky, so open and blue. His heart thuds against his ribs and dares to dream. Could they make it? Should he try? What other choice do they have? Fight? This close to HQ, ShinRa can just keep deploying platoon after platoon faster than he can cut them down. He'll die, and then Cloud – he'll die here, too. ShinRa, animals, monsters, the elements; _something_ will kill him. If he's lucky. If he's not recaptured.

He's not sure when he stopped looking at the sky and started staring into Cloud's eyes, but they're both so blue it's easy to confuse the two. “Do you trust me?” Zack's voice is weak with hope and fear. His hand, sweating inside its glove, grabs the top of Cloud's head and gives it a little nod. Even after so long, he still half expects Cloud to smack his hand, like he used to. Zack smiles as if he had.

“Okay, then!” With a sharp inhale through grit teeth, he slaps his hands to his thighs and stands. It's now or never. The Buster sword comes off his back in a well-practiced swing, and he rests his forehead against the cold steel for a moment. His grip tightens and he tries to will every bit of it – the weight of it, the strength it gives him, the honor of his mentor – all into his memory. The blade sinks easily into the sand as Zack stabs the ground beneath. It rises like a monument from the earth. He'll come back for it, when he can. If it doesn't become their tombstone. Even if ShinRa takes it, though, Cloud is a little more important than his sword.

For now, it might get in the way, or weigh them down. It's a struggle peeling his fingers off the hilt. Gathering Cloud in his arms, he cradles him against his chest and nears the cliff's edge. The rotors grow nearer, louder as ShinRa's search expands. It's now or never.

Zack's only done this twice, and completely on accident both times. It never comes at will, but it's saved his skin when he needed it. Maybe the third time will still be a charm. It has to be.

Cloud groans a bit. He's probably squeezing too hard. “Sorry, Cloud.” His whisper is an urgent rush. Footfalls, boots on gravel, creep into the edges of his hearing. Now. Or. Never. But it's not easy making that big leap. Not with the ground bottoming out a hundred feet down with 'ifs' and 'maybe's and 'hopefully's to close the distance. Not with the most precious person in the world in his arms. Not with Cloud's life literally in his hands.

“Hey!” the sudden shout behind him frees his feet from the ground. Zack jumps forward, outward, downward. Bullets whiz by where they once were. They plummet. The air rushes around them as the ground rises to meet them faster than you can imagine. Faster than you're willing to blink.

It's not happening. Zack twists and turns in the air. As if his body could cushion the blow for Cloud. As if either of them have a chance of surviving the impact.

They don't have to. Feathers flurry around them. The air catches behind Zack on an alien appendage, buoys them with another violent twist and a halting jolt that drags their dive out into a gliding descent. Zack barely recovers fast enough, barely skims them ten feet above the ground. 'By the skin of your teeth' never seems more appropriate. Zack inhales again, at last. He exhales in wild laughter.

It's the oddest thing. It's just the one, bright white wing, but it feels like two; like the twin to the physical one is willed from his mind or sprouting from his mana – the Lifestream within him. It goes from foreign to familiar in just a heartbeat, a wingbeat. A subtle change in angle banks them up, grants them altitude and breathing room.

He doesn't have the time to enjoy this head rush, this boundless freedom. They're not home free yet. Helicopter engines whine as the machines pitch and whirl to follow. Zack flaps as fast as he can, but it's not fast enough. He can't outfly a chopper. Artillery rounds from the mounted guns ring throughout the wastes before they've cut the distance to Midgar in half.

What Zack lacks in speed, he more than makes up for in maneuverability. Evading the fire, he cants down until he's built the speed to careen up and over out of the Army's line of sight. A single wide loop that turns the world upside down. It also turns them the wrong way around, but Zack corkscrews back over and fights for elevation.

He's still outnumbered. Four choppers, machine guns, and radios to coordinate them all give the Army the home team advantage. 

The SOLDIER whittles it down to two, guiding their aim into friendly fire, but he stops taking any more chances when a round grazes his wing and ribs and misses Cloud by a miracle. Every inch of effort is now stretched and spent on keeping out of the Army's line of sight and fire. Ducking and diving, climbing and wheeling takes its toll. He's bleeding. He's breathless. He's fading.

But he's gaining ground. Midgar is rising before them, large and looming. The mako reactors burn like beacons. The heaving metal megapolis sprawls endless in their green glow. Millions of people bustle within, toil beneath. ShinRa wouldn't risk civilian casualties just to take them out, would they?

It seems he guessed right, when the two behind them fall back. Then he sees it. The humvees and troopers lining the gate, the dozen helicopters hovering against the wall. ShinRa's might and fury. So this is what it's like on the other side of the battle lines.

Thunder rolls through the now thick cloud cover. The skies open up and a storm begins to beat down. As if the whole Planet is against them. Hasn't it always been? His arms tighten around Cloud, fighting against the slip of the rain. There's no way of going under or through. The infantry would shoot him out of the sky, if the choppers didn't first. Over it is, then.

His wing beats the air, flapping with all its might to soar ever higher. The helicopters rise with them, but Zack has greater lift, for now. As they near, the machine guns whir and bullets dart around them. He barely rolls away each time. It's only a brief relief when they stop, when Zack's flown too high for their aim.

A high pitched whistle pierces the air and Zack's eyes widen when they catch sight of the missile shooting towards them. He dives and dodges. The rocket times out and blows. A deafening blast that burrows deep in his ears and leaves a pitching ring. The wave of blistering heat and concussive force stuns his wing and loosens his grasp. His thundering heart feels Stopped in the solid four seconds they freefall, Cloud reeling through the air beside him just out of his flailing grasp. Like a leaf on the wind. It's only the very moment Zack's hand wraps around one of Cloud's arms – was he reaching for him, too? – and tugs him back into a tight embrace that the rest of the world comes back into focus.

Midgar is finally beneath them and getting closer by the second. His wing is sodden, wounded, exhausted through and through. Its ethereal twin feels the same. They don't grant him any of the lift he needs. Reaching his full wingspan, he glides down towards the Mako Metropolis, listing to dodge gunfire of the helicopters buzzing behind them. Another missile whines, another explosion blasts too far above them. They're falling too fast to track.

Mako-blue eyes track his target: the gap between the Sector plates. Then they'll have the whole underbelly of Midgar to disappear into. Miles of ever-changing, uncharted slum streets, millions under-dwellers to blend in with. They just have to make it.

They're _so close_. But he's so worn. Like casting with materia, flying drains from the inside, hollows him out. The gap is upon them. It's the narrowest of windows, but they can make it. He tucks Cloud in closer, tilts his wing to slow their descent. Snow-white feathers fly off, float away, disintegrate. His wings are gone. A panic-stricken gasp lodges and chokes halfway down Zack's throat. As they slip through the gap, they fall in blurring black turmoil. 

Inky darkness still shrouds Zack's vision as he comes to, sprawled on his side. It's quiet. For a moment, he wonders if this is death, this black nothingness. He tries to speak. All he can muster is a croaking, “Cloud.” A tightening warmth around his torso shoots a biting jolt of pain up from the bullet wound in his side. It's a very welcome sign of life. Everything else just aches, remnants of their bone-jarring, skin-scraping crash landing. Zack grits his teeth and lurches to rise. Cloud must be hurt, too, he's gotta find him, he's gotta- Zack pushes against the darkness, and it flutters back.

Velvety, night-black feathers fanning across his vision come into focus. A night-black wing eclipsing the world around him. “What-?” 

“Zack...” That so deeply missed voice is hoarse, barely there, beautiful.

Renewed energy pounds through Zack's veins, all pain forgotten as he squirms and flails and spins in Cloud's arms to see him, shouting a too-loud, “Cloud!” Cloud utters a groan of complaint and eases his grasp to let him. Zack cradles Cloud's head in his hands, eyes scouring for injury. He's quite a sight, like a half-drowned chocobo. Blond hair is matted with rainwater and blood – a wound from their fall on his temple – and stuck all over the place. “Are you okay? Cloud?”

Shining blue eyes stare – look – _see_ Zack. Cloud nods, mute, face crumpled in consternation. “Are-” his jaw works, voice tests, “are you?” Zack's just as soaked through, just as bloodied and muddied with the slum street's soil - but his face is alight with joy. His grin so wide, it hurts.

Zack nods as he tugs Cloud in and plants kiss after kiss on his face. “We're okay. We made it,” he rushes between each smack, “We made it.” He can feel Cloud's smile beneath his lips, even as he grumbles again, and Zack laughs and laughs. He grabs the blond to pull him into a tight embrace and never let go. His arms meet the downy obstruction on Cloud's back. His hand traces its edge from his shoulder-blade up the ridge of his wing. He should be worried, should be thinking _what did they do to us?_ and not _he's the most beautiful angel_. Zack may never stop smiling.

They made it.


End file.
